


Moments

by all_waswell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23559025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_waswell/pseuds/all_waswell
Summary: A collection of fics/drabbles featuring Ron & Hermione - including book + post war.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

January 11th, 1998

It was the stillest it had been all winter. 

The snow storm that had blown through the night before had settled over the trees, peppering the woods in white dust. Early dawn begun to illuminate the sky, yet it was still dark out.

Ron looked down at his watch and saw that it had just hit 5. He had been out here alone since one, when he practically pushed Harry into the tent to attempt to get some sleep. Ron knew he would have stayed awake for hours if he hadn’t. God knows what he was like when he was –

Gone. It had been six nights since he had found them, since he had destroyed the locket, since his eyes had laid on hers again…

Shaking his head, he shifted slightly, his legs having gone numb from the cold. He tightened the blanket around his shoulders and the sound radiated around him in the quiet. A gust of warm air hit him and he turned around sharply.

Hermione.

She stood at the opening of the tent, a woollen jumper wrapped around herself. Her face was white, her jaw set, and her cheeks stained pink with the sudden cold. Without making eye contact, she closed the flap and gently sat down next to him, with enough distance to make him ache.

‘M-morning,’ he said, his voice cracking from the cold, the first words he had spoken in five hours.

She didn’t reply, staring ahead at the trees in the distance. 

Ron ran his hand through his hair and looked ahead as well. They sat in silence for longer than he wanted to, but he didn’t want to push her either. He stuck his hands inside his jacket, attempting to ease the burn of the cold.

‘You should sleep.’

He was startled by the sound of her voice. It was softer than he anticipated, not hard like he’d been used to the past few days. He looked at her, attempting to read her facial expression as she continued to stare ahead.

‘I’m not tired yet, you rest as long as you –‘

‘Stop.’

The firmness had returned to her voice. It was like a splinter, sharp and sudden, and he swallowed. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she turned her face towards his.

‘I know what you’re trying to do,’ she began, and he almost thought he heard her voice quivering. ‘You’re trying to punish yourself.’

He stared at her. Of all the things, that was not what he expected her to say.

‘I don’t know what you-‘

She shook her head and looked back down. ‘You’ve barely slept since you got – since you came back.’

He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came. She was right. He grabbed an hour here and there when Harry was on watch, but he had been taking the bulk of the night watch. It was the least he could do.

‘I’m okay-‘

His words got lost – he closed his mouth and his fingers found their way to the back of his neck, rubbing a particularly sore spot. It wasn’t exactly comfortable sitting out here for hours on end.  
Silence. He sighed, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. He wasn’t ready to go back inside yet.

‘I know you’re still mad at me-‘

‘I’m not mad,’ she said softly, and her voice wavered again. 

He looked at her, moving slightly to face her. ‘Of course you are. And you have every right to be. I fucked up-‘

‘Just –‘ her eyes had welled up with tears now and he stopped immediately. ‘We can’t talk about this.’

‘Hermione, we have to –‘

‘Not yet.’

There was a finality to her voice and he blinked a few times, swallowing thickly as the lump began to rise in his throat. Something had shifted.

He took a breath, his eyes finding her face again. She was staring at him. Her expression had softened, her lips open slightly as she stared. She bit her lip and looked down. He didn’t take his eyes off her.  
‘When you’re ready, I’m here. I promise I’m never leaving again.’

A tear fell down her cheek as he stood up, his leg brushing against her arm. He took off the blanket covering his shoulders and placed it around hers. His fingers lingered over her shoulder for longer than he should have before he straightened up and moved towards the tent.

He looked back once, watching her small frame, before he disappeared behind the flap.


	2. Grimmauld Place

Grimmauld Place was always eerily quiet at night.

Despite the various magical objects inhabiting the dark corridors, all was still. Silent. 

Everything except for the rustling of sheets as Ron tossed around in the bed for the thousandth time that night. 

He groaned out loud, lying on his back and staring up at the dank ceiling. Despite the exhaustive efforts a few years ago to clean this place, it still smelt like old mould. Ron could make out tiny cobwebs in the corners of the architrave and he swore under his breath, sitting up.

There was no point pushing it. He slid out of the covers and stood, taking his sweater from the chair and pulling it on before he grabbed the door handle.

He yanked it open and swore loudly.

Hermione jumped, her hand outstretched as she was about to open the door. Subconsciously, she took a step back as Ron stared at her.

‘You scared the hell out of me,’ he said, out of breath.

‘Sorry,’ she said, so softly he struggled to hear it. 

She had wrapped her arms around herself, and he took her in. She looked so small, in her pyjama pants and a sweater. Her feet were bare and she was shivering, but he didn’t think from the cold.

‘What-‘

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she said, looking up at him. Her normally wild hair had been pulled back into a thick knot at the back of her head.

Ron’s heart thumped in his chest. Of all places, she had come here. To him. To his room. His mind couldn’t quite comprehend what that meant.

‘Can-‘ she took a small breath, almost willing herself to say what she wanted to say. He didn’t interrupt her.

She looked up at him. ‘Can I stay with you.’

Ron blinked, his mouth going dry. ‘’C-course,’ he said after a moment, his voice cracking and rough.

Hermione nodded and slipped past him, her shoulder brushing against his chest. He watched her enter his room and he slowly closed the door. 

He didn’t know what to do. Hermione stood in the centre of the room, her arms still wrapped around herself and he stood there for a moment, unmoving. Then something snapped him out of it and he took a few steps towards the bed, getting in and opening the covers for her to slip in.

It was bold, he knew. But isn’t that what she wanted? Fuck, wasn’t it what he wanted? This potential closeness made his body ache and his throat constrict. 

Hermione bit her lip and finally let go of herself. She climbed into the bed, pulling the sheets up over her body and settled into the mattress. They both stared up at the ceiling, still. Unsure as to what to do next.

‘I’m really scared.’

Her voice came out as a whisper, cracked and wavering. He knew she was on the verge of crying just from her voice. He knew her.

Ron turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He watched her, his heart rate increasing.

‘Me too,’ he said gently.

She swallowed, finally looking at him. Her eyes were swimming with tears and she brushed her cheek with the back of her hand, taking a breath.

‘One day at a time, yeah?’

She nodded. It was all he could say. Truth be told he was fucking terrified. They had no idea what they were going to do, where they were going to go. How they were going to survive. But that’s what they did. Survive. Bravely, he brought his hand up to her cheek and touched his thumb to her skin, brushing away a tear that had fallen. God, her skin felt warm. He heard her breath catch in her throat. 

She rolled onto her side and he blinked, feeling a lump rise in his throat. Before he could say anything, she leaned back without looking, taking his hand. She wrapped it around her waist, still holding onto his hand as she moved back slightly until her back was flush against his front.

He stilled for a moment, his breath caught in his throat, before he relaxed, pulling her tightly against him. She let out a soft breath and he almost came undone. Resolve gone. What he wouldn’t give to be able to turn her around and kiss her, hold her, tell her everything. 

Instead he swallowed.

She held his hand against her stomach, warm through the cotton of her pyjama top. He swore she could hear his heart thumping as loud as if it was banging against the cupboard.

Slowly, softly, her breath grew quieter and she relaxed against him, her grip relaxing. She was asleep.

He drifted off not long after, feeling her warm body against his. He’d never slept better.


End file.
